


Spat Out as if by Chance

by That_stupid_girl



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Bulimia, Eating Disorders, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, also Jillian Holtzmann is a really good cook that's just a fact okay, and it's more about punishment for almost murder, but it's really just a relapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:47:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7665565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_stupid_girl/pseuds/That_stupid_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abby, for some strange reason, had not expected anyone else to be up at three am. Okay, so that’s not totally true. They’re all science and history geeks, and neither of those two groups are notorious for good sleep schedules. It would be more accurate to say that Abby had not expected anyone else to be up and near the rarely used downstairs bathroom at three am. Her mistake. </p><p>But, god, she feels fucking awful, and nothing anyone says is going to make it better. She hurt Jillian. She tried to kill Jillian, and she really wasn’t much better to Patty. She doesn’t know how they can still look at her.</p><p>or</p><p>The one where Abby doesn't understand how Holtz can forgive her for almost killing her and slips back into old habits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spat Out as if by Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mess and so am I, and it probably doesn't even make much sense. Oh well. The title also doesn't make all that much sense with the story, but it's late and I'm tired and I gave up. (It's from Tilted by Christine and the Queens which is a great song. Except that specific lyric is originally in French.)
> 
> Also I'm obviously not saying bulimia is a good idea or anything, because it's really not. Just btw.

Abby was doing pretty well with the whole “almost killed her best friend thing.” Really, she was, but then she stopped working long enough to answer fan mail and questions and comments, and then she stopped doing that long enough to relax, and that was really where she went wrong.

It’s been all she can think about for the last two days. She’s been too distracted from her work, which is still more focused than most people, but it’s too distracted for her to get done what she needs to get done. She just needs to stop _thinking_.

And so she finds herself, just like old times, at the kitchen table at two forty-three in the morning.

She hadn’t realized just how many leftovers they had. They seem to order new takeout for every meal, so people rarely end up eating anything from the fridge. Abby has lots of choices.

Even if she won’t admit it, she knows already that she will eat everything she pulls out. There is no point in denying it. She knows what she’s doing.

And she does, until she can barely swallow without puking. She stands up to throw away all the trash and she is so _full_ that she has to bend over to be able to move. It barely fits in the trashcan, but she pushes and manages to get the lid all the way closed.

Then, stomach stretched and bulging and feeling like she’s about to burst, she rushes to the downstairs bathroom that literally no one has used in the last two days. Probably because, oh yeah, Abby got possessed by a ghost in there, because she’s a fucking idiot, and then tried to kill her friends. It’s only fitting, really, that this is the place she’ll make herself throw up for the first time in four years.

She strips out of her college T shirt and tosses it across the floor. After turning on the faucet she gulps down handfuls of cold water, then turns off the sink and moves straight the to toilet.

And it’s going fine, except, _shit_ , she’d forgotten how much it hurts her knuckles. Obviously her throat is burning because she is so not used to this anymore, but she thinks her hand might be bleeding from scraping her teeth and she’d forgotten about that.

But still, it’s going about as well as could be expected. Which is to say Abby wants to crawl inside the toilet and never come out, or maybe just shoot a tunnel through her skull. Either way, she feels like shit, but she _deserves_ it; people can’t just go around trying to kill the people they love. Even if it’s because they get possessed by ghosts because they’re pathetic, weak, crybabies, honestly.

So, she’s bent over the toilet, left hand braced against the rim. She’s never understood the reasons for kneeling to do this; gravity is a thing, and it makes so much more sense to let it work for her than against her. She leans farther into the toilet bowl, wiggling her fingers against the back of her throat, because she needs to get more of herself out of her body and into the pipes and far _far_ away from the people she could hurt. _Has_ hurt.

She breathes in at the wrong time, or maybe just swallows something, but either way she starts coughing and spluttering. It takes her close to a minute to catch her breath. She sighs, then shoves her fingers back into her mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Abby tries to swallow the rising vomit, but only ends up spitting most of it into the toilet and coughing again. And _fuck_. This is not what she needs right now. _Fuck_. At least it’s not Erin, she thinks, because yeah, that would definitely be worse. But Jillian, that’s bad, too. Jillian, who probably _hates_ her, because that’s what one feels toward people who try to kill them. Abby has no idea how to answer.

“Seriously, Abby, what the hell? Shit,” Jillian sighs. Abby can hear her crossing the room toward her. This is not what she needs. Abby is covered in vomit, and this is just _mortifying_.

Holtzmann hovers close to her, but doesn’t seem like she knows whether to touch her or not. Abby doesn’t know either.

“Do you need to take a shower?” she asks, voice edged with worry. God, what the _hell_ , she should be screaming at Abby, maybe telling her to try harder, to do something more than a little puking, but Jillian is _worrying_. Fuck.

Abby wipes her mouth. “No. I- I’m so sorry. I, shit,” she stutters. Looking around at the mess she’s created, she knows how to clean it up. Or, “clean” it up, maybe. It’s just not something she can do with Holtz _watching_ her. “I, fuck, can you like leave? Just for a minute? I’m so sorry. I just need to clean up, I- Just for a second.” Jillian raises an eyebrow at her, crosses her arms, and leans back against the opposite wall.

“I, yeah. Okay,” Abby whispers, because suddenly she just wants to cry. There is _no way_ this is happening right now. It can’t be. Her hands are shaking, and only partially from the sudden electrolyte imbalance. She goes back to the sink and washes off her face and hands. She even uses soap, because Holtz is watching and is probably already disgusted enough already.

She puts her shirt back on next, then starts to wipe up vomit from the toilet and floor and wall with toilet paper. It’s awkward, and Abby feels like she’s moving through honey, or ectoplasm. Jillian is still just watching her, and Abby feels like she’s twelve years old and in trouble.

She flushes the toilet and goes to wash her hands once more. When she’s done she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do or say. She stands at the sink with her back to Holtzmann for as long as she thinks is acceptable, then slowly turns around.

Holtz pushes herself off the wall and steps toward Abby.

“M’lady,” Jillian drawls, tipping an imaginary hat before moving to open the door. Abby will give her credit for trying to lighten the situation, but it definitely doesn’t work.

Jillian reaches for Abby’s hand as soon as they step into the hall. Abby can’t help but squirm away slightly. Holtz drops her hand, but keeps her fingers resting lightly on the small of Abby’s back as they walk up the stairs.

“So,” Holtzmann starts. “Is this a thing?” She’s fairly nonchalant about it all, and her voice almost doesn’t betray that she knows how serious the situation really is. She does, though. They both do. Abby sighs and reaches up to take her hair out of the hasty bun.

“No.” She can tell Holtz doesn’t believe her. They continue up the stairs. “Not anymore,” she adds significantly more quietly.

Abby has worked side by side with Jillian Holtzmann for almost four years now, and she knows how she thinks. She can practically hear the gears turning in Jillian’s head. Not anymore makes sense, though; Abby knows it does. Not anymore means that Abby setting alarms for meals, and forcing Jillian to have at least some juice or something, and eating almost the same thing every day, and writing down what she eats, and every other weird thing she does with food makes sense.

Holtz keeps quiet, but continues to lead Abby to the second floor. Abby really doesn’t go in Holtz’s bedlab, as she’s taken to calling it, but apparently she is now.

When they get to the door, Holtz flips a light switch and about fifteen different bulbs of varying intensity turn on. Abby isn’t surprised.

“You can sit,” Holtz says, obviously uncomfortable. Abby nods, then looks around. There’s not really anywhere to sit since every available flat surface seems to be covered in paper and metal and things wrapped in duct tape, so Abby decides to sit on Holtz’s bed. It’s only sort of covered in papers.

There’s a solid two minutes of silence before Erin comes bursting through the door. Abby has to stop herself from asking why she’s up at almost four in the morning, but then remembers why she herself is awake and stops.

“What’s wrong? I got your text. You said something was wrong. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Erin rushes to get out, eyes raking over Jillian’s body in an attempt to check for injuries. Then she sees Abby, looking miserable in the corner of Jillian’s bed.

“Is Abby okay?” Erin asks, suddenly talking significantly more slowly. It’s like she’s gone from ‘call about child in the emergency room’ panic to something more along the lines of ‘why is everyone staring at something over my shoulder’ concern.

“Abby’s great,” Abby says before Holtz can get anything out. Holtz glares at her. It’s only half playful.

“Abby is not great,” Jillian says without breaking eye contact with Abby or looking at Erin. “Abby is very un-great.” She nods to herself, then turns to Erin.

“Did you bring Patty?” she asks, even though it should be obvious that Erin, in fact, did not.

“No? Was I supposed to?” Erin seems confused, and a little hurt maybe, which Abby doesn’t completely understand but knows is there. She knows Erin better than anyone (she’s pretty sure she does, anyway); once she knew what Erin’s emotions sounded like she could pull apart any sentence to find them.

“Yeah. I said so in the text,” Holtz tells her like it’s obvious, which, honestly, it probably was. Erin’s face falls slightly, and, _shit_ , Abby thinks. Erin likes Holtz. She’s not sure how she didn’t notice this before, honestly. She can only blame her complete lack of romantic attraction for so much; she’d realized Jillian liked Erin weeks ago. It should make her happy, that two of her friends will likely get together, and it does, but it also makes her feel even worse that she doesn’t know Erin as well as she thought she did. Best friends are supposed to talk about crushes together. Or, in Abby and Erin’s case, Erin is supposed to talk about crushes while Abby gives her purposely horrific advice with a few good ideas mixed in.

“It’s fine,” Holtzmann says, bringing Abby back into the present. “I’ll get her.” She dashes out of the room leaving an uncomfortable Abby and a confused Erin.

“What’s going on?” Erin asks, walking toward her. Abby wants to smile and tell her that everything’s fine, but she can’t, because it’s not. Abby tried to kill one of the people she cares most about in the whole world and that is not _fine_. She should probably be in prison, honestly, or at least kicked off the team, because they really can’t afford to have someone around who’s so fucking weak and useless that she might get possessed at any given time and try to _kill_ the rest of them. It’s not safe. She’s not safe.

“Nothing. It’s fine,” Abby tells her. She knows it’s about as far from convincing as one can get, especially to Erin.

“I definitely do not believe that at all,” Erin says, smiling slightly. “Want to try again?” She sits on the edge of the bed next to Abby and looks at her. God, Abby’s not even sure if Erin knows what she did. She wants to cry all over again, and it takes everything in her to just shake her head and look down so Erin doesn’t see the tears collecting in her eyes. She sneaks a peak at Erin through her eyelashes in time to see the grin drop off Erin’s face.

She hears a noise at the door and looks up to see a very tired Patty stumble through the doorway. Jillian comes in right behind her, obviously pushing Patty forward. Holtzmann sees Erin and Abby sitting on the bed and moves to clear two chairs. Or a chair and a large wooden crate, actually.

Patty takes the real seat and looks even more confused than Erin. Abby feels like she’s going to puke, and not on purpose. Jillian sits down on the crate, drawing one leg up under herself and looking nervous for the first time. No one says anything.

“Alright, what the hell is going on?” Patty finally asks, obviously annoyed. Abby winces. Jillian takes a deep breath.

“I think we need to talk about self-care and shit,” she gets out before Patty starts to laugh.

“Seriously, Holtzy? You’re the poster boy for not taking care of yourself,” she grins. Abby watches as Holtz sets her jaw.

“I know that, and I am trying to do better, but some of us seem to be going out of their way to hurt themselves,” she says. She sounds seriously pissed off. Patty looks seriously confused. Abby’s seriously freaking out, especially after she hears Erin’s sharp intake of breath from beside her. This is not happening.

“What are you talking about, Holtzy?” Patty asks, amusement turning into concern as she sees Holtzmann’s face. Holtz looks to Abby, waiting for her to say something. Abby looks down.

Then, finally, “Abby’s bulimic,” Jillian blurts, and it feels like high school the way she says it. “She was-”

“I’m not bulimic,” Abby cuts her off, because she’s _not_. One relapse does not mean she’s falling apart all over again, especially since she deserved it.

“Oh really?” Holtz says, leaning forward. She seems genuinely angry now and Abby can’t help but wince slightly. “Then why were you making yourself throw up at 3am?” she challenges. Abby feels Erin deflate beside her.

“Because I fucking deserve it! Okay?” Abby is seriously regretting her seating choice because there is nowhere for her to run. All she can do is keep talking.

“I tried to kill you! I almost killed you! I fucking hurt you! Why does noone seem to care about that?” she yells, knowing that she is too loud. (She is always too loud.) She looks around at her three closest friends. They’re all sitting exactly where they were, frozen and shocked.

“You should have kicked me off the team, or put me in prison, or tossed me in a dumpster, or hated me or _something_ ,” she’s crying now, and she has probably never been more embarrassed about anything in her life. She is a grown ass woman; she shouldn’t even be in this position in the first place. “You can’t just try to _kill_ people and not have everyone hate you,” she whispers, choking on tears.

“Oh, Abby,” Erin whispers and Abby hates that she looks like a fucking child right now. Erin scoots closer to her friend and grabs her hand, leaning into her. Abby halfheartedly tries to pull her hand away, but she’s too busy being a fucking failure to try all that hard.

“Alright,” Patty says, voice full of conviction. “I know you don’t believe what you just said, because you’d have to be a goddamn idiot to believe even one word of that, and the Abby I know is no idiot.” Abby glances at her. Patty looks sure of her words, arms crossed and jaw set and tears in her eyes. Abby feels awful all over again.

She sees Patty glance at Jillian, but Abby still can’t look at her. God, she must fucking hate her, even if no one else seems to.

“But that wasn’t you,” she hears Jillian say after almost a minute more of silence. She looks up, confused, and Holtz gets onto the bed with her and Erin. She crawls over until she is basically in Abby’s lap and it’s really hard for Abby to not look at her. She closes her eyes. Fuck Holtzmann and her lack of boundaries or respect for personal space. Actually no, that’s not true; Abby knows Holtz would never do anything to make any of them uncomfortable unless absolutely necessary. Still, it would be easier to ignore Jillian if she wasn’t four inches from her face.

“Abby, look at me,” Holtz whispers. Abby doesn’t particularly want to, but Jillian grabs her face and turns it toward her own. She then proceeds to push Abby’s eyelids up, which is unsuccessful in that the action alone doesn’t make Abby’s eyes open. Abby does, however, get so uncomfortable with Holtz pressing on her eyelids that she opens them. Holtzmann is grinning. Also crying.

Abby has never seen Jillian Holtzmann cry. This is a disaster.

“Dude. That was not you. You’ve gotta know that,” she begs. Abby doesn’t move. Too risky. Holtz is crying. Jillian sighs. “I know that wasn’t you. It sucks that it happened, yeah, and sometimes when I see you near the equipment I can’t help but be like, ‘Oh shit. No,’” Abby can’t help but wince slightly. Holtzmann continues. “But I stop thinking that after approximately point four seconds, because I know it was not you who crowbarred the proton packs or held me out a window.” Abby feels like she’s going to stop breathing any second now. She doesn’t really know why. Erin squeezes her arm.

“That. Was. Not. You.” Holtz punctuates each word with a jab between Abby’s collarbones. “It was a very rude ghost named Rowan who almost succeeded in destroying New York City. And also the world. You didn’t try to kill me.” Jillian leans back slightly, watching Abby for a reaction.

“But I got possessed by a ghost,” Abby finally whispers. “And then I hurt you. I should’ve at least fought it more or something.” She doesn’t know how to get the point across at this point, because she doesn’t want to go right out and say she’s weak; she knows that will get them seriously pissed at her.

“Okay, first of all, Kevin got possessed by the same ghost and hurt all of New York,” Holtzmann says.

“Yeah, but…” Abby trails off. She has no argument because she doesn’t want to say that Kevin is stupid. She is not going to say that Kevin is stupid. (Even if he sort of really is.) Plus that’s not even a solid counterpoint for spectral possession. Holtz continues.

“Second of all, you’re being stupid.” Holtz obviously has no qualms about calling people stupid. “I know it wasn’t you. Patty knows it wasn’t you.” At this she looks back to Patty for confirmation. Patty nods violently. “Erin knows it wasn’t you. Well, Erin wasn’t actually there,” Jillian amends. “But she knows it wasn’t you.”

Patty yawns from her seat behind the bed. Jillian turns to glare at her.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I care about Abby more than I care about most people and I do not want her to feel the way she does, but it’s also four in the morning. I can’t help it if I’m tired,” Patty defends. Holtz nods because, yeah, that’s true. Just because she sleeps an average of three to five hours a night doesn’t mean everyone does.

“That’s a good point, actually,” Erin says, sitting up straighter. “It might be good if we just went to bed and talked about this in the morning. Or in the later morning I guess,” she half jokes. Jillian looks like she wants to argue, but eventually sighs in submission and leans back from Abby’s face.

Leaving Holtz’s room is awkward. It’s awkward for Abby, at least, if not for everyone else. Patty gets up first and waits at the door for Abby and Erin. While Erin has a whispered conversation with Holtzmann, Abby awkwardly extracts herself from the corner of the bed. She stands, finally, and Erin gives Jillian a final nod and holds out her hand for her best friend.

As they’re crossing the labroom, Holtz latches herself onto Abby’s back in what is probably supposed to be a hug but feels more like a personal attack to Abby’s spinal cord. She stands there awkwardly while Jillian hugs her from behind.

“You know I love you?” she asks Abby’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I love you too,” Abby whispers. And she does know, really, because there’s no other way Holtz would have been able to deal with working with her for the past few years. Abby’s honestly hard to deal with sometimes, but so is Jillian. She loves her, though, and Holtzmann loves Abby, so it works just fine.

At the top of the stairs Patty squeezes her shoulder and tells her, “Abby, I love you, but for a theoretical physicist you’re sort of a dumbass,” and walks into her room. Abby rolls her eyes. Erin laughs. Erin hugs her at the door to her room and Abby assumes that’s the end of that for the night, but Erin walks back in less than two minutes later with her sleep mask on her head. She climbs into Abby’s bed without a word and Abby sighs at her. She turns off the lights then climbs in bed herself.

It’s quiet for a minute, then Abby hears Erin take a deep breath.

“I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I’m so bad at that,” Erin tells her. Abby can tell she’s talking to the ceiling and smiling, despite the serious edge in her voice. Abby sighs.

“How long was it?” Erin continues.

“About four years,” Abby says. She can’t help but turn slightly away from Erin.

“That’s really good,” Erin tells her. She’s not sure if she’s just humoring her or not. “I’m very proud of you for that.” Abby doesn’t really know how to respond. She doesn’t necessarily care if Erin keeps talking and asking her questions though, and Erin seems to understand that.

“Did you actually want to throw up? Or was it just the food?” Erin asks. Abby listens to the rustling sheets as Erin turns on her side and shifts slightly closer to Abby. She doesn’t really want to answer, or talk about it in general, because it’s _dumb_ , but Erin is Erin, and Erin is her best friend and also has moderate to severely bad anxiety. She can’t think it’s that stupid.

“I don’t know. Both, I guess. I started eating, and then… I don’t know. I hurt her,” she sighs. Erin sighs, too.

“You didn’t. Wasn’t you. Promise,” Erin tells her. Abby shrugs as much as she can lying down, wanting desperately to change the subject.

“So,” Abby says, more confident about the possibility of being wrong in the dark, “You like Holtz?” Erin tenses slightly, but then starts to laugh.

“Yeah, turns out Grace Lucas senior year wasn’t a fluke. I’m definitely bi,” she says, and Abby can tell she’s more nervous than she sounds and more nervous than she should be because she’s Erin, and Erin freaks out about things that don’t warrant freaking out. (Even more than Abby does.)

“To be fair Jillian Holtzmann is sort of a sexuality of her own,” Abby jokes. Erin laughs again.

“To be fair I think I’m in love with her.” Abby’s pretty sure that comes out significantly more seriously than she wanted it to, but she just squeezes Erin’s hand and smiles in the dark.

 

When Abby wakes up, Erin is already out of bed. Abby is the opposite of surprised. Erin doesn’t sleep well or late on a normal day, but she definitely doesn’t sleep well in someone else’s bed. There’s a good chance she left after Abby fell asleep, but she also thinks that Erin wouldn’t do that. It would probably feel like some sort of betrayal to her.

Abby slowly gets out of her bed, making her way to the bathroom. After she finishes putting on minimal makeup, she walks back into her room to get dressed. She grabs a red plaid shirt and a pair of black leggings, which she quickly slips on. She pulls on a pair of brown boots since it is entirely unsafe to be barefoot anywhere Holtzmann’s been working, and pushes her arms through the sleeves of a black cardigan before heading downstairs.

She pulls her sweater more tightly against herself as she walks down the stairs. It’s getting colder in New York, and therefore colder in the firehouse. They don’t really have functioning central heat. Jillian should do something about that.

She can see Erin before she enters the kitchen. She’s sitting at the table, watching something Abby can’t quite see with an amused expression on her face that Abby thinks looks like love.

When she walks through the door she sees Jillian standing over the stove, dancing over a pot of something that’s fogging up her glasses. Erin looks up when she hears Abby come in and raises her eyebrows in Jillian’s general direction. Abby shrugs, then laughs. Holtz jumps, dropping a spoon Abby didn’t know she was holding into the pot.

“I didn’t think you’d be up yet,” Holtzmann says. Abby can’t help but notice she sounds disappointed. “It’s not ready yet,” she continues as she turns around. She looks upset at not having the chance to finish the soup broth before Abby came down.

“I can go back to bed if you want,” she jokes. Jillian shakes her head.

“No, it’s all good.” Abby walks over toward the stove, leaning in slightly to try to see what’s in the pot, but still attempting to keep a bit of distance in case Holtz has decided she hates her or something.

“What’re you making?” she asks, because honestly whatever it is smells so amazing Abby thinks she might die.

“Wonton soup.” Holtzmann has turned back to the pot, and is now attempting to fish out her spoon with a larger spoon.

“At eight in the morning?” Abby asks. That’s a little strange, even for Jillian. Holtz shrugs, still trying to extract the spoon.

“It’s your favorite,” she mumbles. Abby feels her breath catch in her throat, because that’s literally so fucking sweet, and Jillian Holtzmann should probably hate her right now and not be making Abby soup at what is honestly an ungodly hour of the morning.

“And I wanted you to know that I love you very much and do not blame you for what happened and would probably be dead or at least super sad if I didn’t know you,” she rushes to add. Abby thinks she might cry, which would mostly be horrible because of how early it is. She’ll cry later.

Abby realizes she hasn’t said anything and is sort of frozen in place when Jillian turns back to look at her, looking slightly embarrassed. Abby lurches forward, wrapping Jillian in her arms and squeezing her tightly. Even if she doesn’t deserve it one bit, her friends don’t hate her. She shouldn’t be so hard to deal with.

For once Holtz doesn’t say anything, just hugs her back.

Patty comes downstairs not long after that. She doesn’t seem at all surprised to see everyone in the kitchen. Or everyone but Kevin, that is. Abby doesn’t know if he just needs a ton of sleep for his brain to try to function or if he gets lost even more easily than previously assumed.

“So,” Patty says as she pulls a chair out from the table. “Are we gonna talk about Abby being dumb as hell or just assure her that she’s not actually evil?” Abby’s not sure if she wants to laugh or drop through the floor and into hell.

“I vote we forget that ever happened,” she mumbles, lowering her head into her hands. Erin rubs soothing circles into her back.

“Good thing we scientists and historians have notoriously bad memories,” Holtz says from her spot by the stove. Erin snorts.

“I just don’t want you doing that again,” Jillian says softly as she takes the last seat. For a split second Abby thinks she’s talking about attempted murder, and yeah, she doesn’t want that either.

“I’m not going to,” Abby tells her. And then, because she is a scientist and prides herself in her logic and realism, “Well, probably. It’s been a while since the time before this one, like, four years. I’m seriously fine. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“How about we drop it, but you say something the second you feel like doing anything along those lines again?” Erin asks. Abby shrugs. “No seriously. I think it’s fair that we promise not to bug Abby about it if she promises to say something. I trust her on this.” Erin glances at her before continuing. “It was super bad in high school, and also college, actually, and she was super miserable, and I trust that she’s not going to put herself in that position again.” Abby feels moderately annoyed and embarrassed regarding being talked about like she’s not there, but Erin sounds sure of herself and like she believes in Abby and that’s honestly just really nice. She barely even minds Erin telling the other two about her eating disorder without her permission.

“I think that’s fair,” Patty shrugs. The three of them look to Holtz.

“Fine,” she finally says. Then she exaggeratedly spits on her palm and holds her hand out to Abby.

“No.” Patty laughs as Holtzmann sighs and wipes her hand off on her slacks. She gets back up to check the soup.

“Wash your hands first!” Erin sounds absolutely appalled, and Abby sees the moment she realizes how motherly, or, honestly, grandmotherly, she sounds. Her face turns red. “Please,” she adds significantly more quietly. Jillian does as Erin says, and Abby thinks that she probably wouldn’t do that for her or Patty.

It turns out that they don’t have any clean bowls. There’s actually a really good chance they don’t have any bowls period. For scientists they’re way too dependent on disposable dishes. The lack of socially acceptable soup dishes, however, doesn’t deter Holtz in the slightest.

They eat wonton soup with a reasonable amount of wontons _and_ broth out of glasses at eight thirty in the morning and Abby knows that they love her, because they wouldn’t put up with her otherwise. She knows she’ll get over the bout of self hatred and doubt in a few days; she always does. For now, she’ll just have to trust that her friends, her _family_ , wouldn’t lie to her.

Kevin walks in a few minutes after they start eating, looking beyond confused and slightly hurt.

“Do I get any juice?” he asks, and no one really has the heart to point out that you don’t eat juice with spoons and that this is definitely soup. Jillian ladles some into a cup for him, and he downs it in just a few gulps.

**Author's Note:**

> It looks like all my Ghostbusters stories might end with everyone at the table...


End file.
